Love Letters
by Tattoos for Liars
Summary: And with each letter of the alphabet they fall further and further into the other's arms. Full of everything under the moon, but always revolving around Steve and Tony in love. Stony
1. A, B, C

**AN:** **I must admit when I saw this alphabet format on under another fandom I had a spark of inspiration to apply it practically everything else that I was into at the time. Avengers, however, ended up being the fandom that I love messing around with the most, so this series is born.** **Try listening to the song "Love Letter" by Shwayze ft. the Cataracs which is perfectly adorable for (some of) these oneshots.**

A – Astronaut

"Hurry up Jarvis, he'll be on soon!" A small brown haired boy tripped over himself in his rush to the bulky box-shaped television, a blanket with stars and rocket ships flying behind like a cape. He plopped onto the floor with an _oomph_ and stared wide-eyed at the screen, the black and white video showing Earth from above.

The elderly butler gave a fond smile at his charge and settled calmly into an armchair a respectable distance from the screen. Young Anthony, however, was nearly pressing his face into the screen in his eagerness to see his hero.

"I doubt Captain Rogers will disappear if you scoot back a bit from the telly, Anthony."

"Shush Jarvis," Tony hushed, "He's here!"

The young boy watched in awe as his beloved hero, astronaut captain Steve Rogers, came onto the screen. Despite the black and white colors his light hair shone through and the flyaway smile completely captivated the audience of reporters as the astronaut spoke of his next solo mission into space to go observe the moon. It would be the closest any human had gotten the moon and lived if all went according to plan.

The boy's wide brown eyes lit up with excitement as the handsome blond young man spoke to the camera, strong and confident. He was completely enamored.

"When I grow Jarvis I wanna be just like him. An astronaut." Tony whispered, glued to the screen as it told of his hero's planned voyage the next day. Few believed he would make it back alive but Captain Rogers was refusing to back down.

Jarvis smiled. "I'm sure you will be young sir. You may even get to meet Captain Rogers."

"Really!" he gushed. He clutched his blanket close and blushed adorably. "Oh, that'd be amazing! He's so awesome!"

Jarvis chuckled and shook his head. Childhood hero worship was undeniably cute, especially when it his young sir.

B – Baseball

There were few things Steve loved more than baseball. When he'd been sharing an apartment with Bucky they'd save up enough spare change between the two of them to go to one Brooklyn Dodgers game a season and would sneak into the rest or listen on the radio. Though baseball seemed to have fallen out of favor as the biggest sport in the country since he'd gone under it was still an American classic and Steve wasn't planning on giving up his devotion.

Unfortunately none of his teammates had understood his dedication when they'd first started to bond together. Clint only cared about football, Bruce found sports in general violent and uninteresting, Thor didn't find them violent enough, and Natasha only payed attention during the Olympics and would only pull for "Mother Russia", as Clint jokingly called it.

So Steve spent his games days in privacy to shout and yell without disturbing anyone else who wanted to watch. It was kind of lonely, but once he really got into the game he usually forgot that he was by himself without anyone to vent to and cheer along with.

Then one day that changed.

It'd been a complete surprise when one Saturday in the third inning of the Dodgers game Steve had been watching by himself in the living room Tony had wandered in, blinked when he noticed what was on the screen, and made a beeline for the couch. Steve hadn't even realized Tony was in the room until he felt the cushion shift at his right and looked over to see Tony watching with attentive eyes.

"Um, Tony? What are you doing here?" Steve questioned.

Tony sipped his ever-present cup of coffee as the smartly dressed woman on the screen rattled off stats of the opposing team's pitcher and raised a cocky eyebrow. "What does it look like Cap? I'm watching the game."

Steve gave an unconvinced look. "I meant, why are you in here watching a baseball game with me? No one else in the tower likes sports, let alone baseball."

Tony was smug. "And whoever said that?"

Realization sparked and Steve stared at him in surprise. "You're a baseball fan?"

Tony took a languid sip of his coffee, steam rising up in wisps from the dark liquid. When he moved it away his lips were curled in a wistful smile of summertime childhood memories.

"When I was a kid Aunt Peggy would take me to Dodgers games as a sort of bonding thing. She would always tell me about how you loved the sport so much that there had to be some merit in it and since nobody but me was willing to try them with her it sort of became our thing."

Tony laughed, lighthearted and freely. It was like apple trees and fireflies.

Then breath left Steve's chest at the mention of the British woman he'd fallen for during the war, now long lost to him. He hadn't known Peggy and Tony had known each other or that she'd told Tony stories anything about him. It was oddly comforting, knowing that someone besides himself had known his companions from the war, had known that they existed. It made it a bit easier to let them go.

Tony kicked his feet up onto Steve's lap, lounging against the armrest. The billionaire was completely comfortable with the casual contact and truthfully, so was Steve.

"Now unpause the game and let's get back to watching. I'm already three innings behind because Jarvis forgot to tell me it started, you little bastard."

"My dearest apologies sir, I merely was unsure you would appreciate being interrupted from your work." Jarvis apologized graciously from the ceiling, unapologetic as ever.

Tony crossed his arms and huffed. Steve chuckled as he unpaused the game, wondering how a full grown man could imitate a pouting child so well.

Nearly a year later, Tony pouted in a similar fashion as his blond boyfriend dragged him through the stands to their seat at the first Dodgers game of the season. "But, but, but – I never claimed I _liked_ going to those awful games with Peggy!" Tony shouted. He waved his arms wildly as he spoke as if that would help his case. "We both despised that stupid complicated game! We only went to mock it together!"

Steve shook his head, a smile on his face. "Well then it's a shame you made me think you liked baseball because Natasha got us season's tickets as a get-together present. You're going to have to come watch every single one of these with me."

Tony groaned in horror. "I just wanted to impress you and possibly sleep with you! Is that too much to ask?"

C – Crucifix

He looked like a butterfly pinned to a display.

There was railway spike driven through the palm of his hand – a needle through a paper thin wing. It leaked blood in thin trails, red dripping down pale skin, impaling his flesh and the rough stone table beneath him.

Another spike was stabbed through his other palm, face up, slightly rusted, and bare torso was crisscrossed with purposeful knife cuts that made intricate, delicate patterns on his chest. There was no telling what the symbols meant or what they were for, only that the heretics who made them believed his death served some greater purpose to their religion. His torture and death was required in the minds of the carvers, celebrated in a way, like a sacrifice of one to a volcano to save hundreds.

The soldier would ensure they burned in hell if he had to drag them down there himself.

The lower half of his body was still incased in the Iron Man suit. It'd been torn off at the waist, leaving bent metal and twisting wires that left off a flurry of sparks in random bursts at his hips; he wasn't how they had managed to rip the suit in half without ripping him in half too.

Jagged edges cut at his hips where the torn metal met skin, shallow and stained red. Pieces of the defaced suit were scattered on the concrete floor of the dank, chilly basement. Still intact, the legs of the red and gold suit gleamed dully in the artificial light of a single hanging light bulb, drained bloodless. Another corpse.

The irony of the positioning was not lost on the soldier: Iron Man's hands nailed to a stone slab that was shaped in a cross, a gaudy gold plastic crown bedazzled with scarlet fake jewels mockingly perched on his hair that they'd probably bought at a party store. Tony had been infamous for his exploits courting sin in his younger days and so the fanatics had crucified him to cleanse him of his faults.

It made the soldier sick.

And as Captain America stared down at the peaceful expression on his dead Iron Man with a slowly mounting dark fury, he swore not a single person responsible would leave this compound alive.

**~ I hope you enjoyed the beginning of my little experiment! Feel free to suggest simple words for each letter 'cause I love the chance to challenge myself to find inspiration from the bare minimum. I will be experimenting with styles of writing so if some letters are written differently it's on purpose.**


	2. D

D – Dare

This had to be the stupidest curse in all of existence.

Steve should have known better. The last time he'd gone drinking with any of the other Avengers they'd torn apart a Dunkin' Donuts with their bare hands, kidnapped a lion from the Central Park Zoo, and caused a riot at the Walmart, all before three in the morning for fuck's sake. Drinking plus Avengers equals disaster had became an official scientific _law_ that night and Fury had gotten up their asses for it for so long that Steve had pondered asking him to pay rent.

Pepper, Rhodey, and Jarvis all probably would've been just as mad too if they'd had the right to be. But Pepper and Rhodey had gotten drunk with them, and Tony, to prevent Jarvis from ruining their fun, had put Jarvis on his newly installed 'Drunk Mode', which basically meant he sincerely agreed with everything Tony stupidly suggested and was actually willing to hack into Central Park's security system so they could steal a full grown adult male lion in the first place. When they woke up the next morning (read: two in the afternoon) there was really nothing to be said besides "Well, shit."

Steve, of course, had been technically sober the entire time – right up until he'd gotten so love drunk on a cuddly intoxicated Tony that he'd tossed his common sense aside like a pair of worn boots. (It was all he was going to get, ok? It wasn't like Tony was going to remember enough of it the next day to make fun of him for his silly hopeless crush. Give a guy a break.)

Long story short, Steve knew after last time that the Avengers should under no circumstances leave the tower if they wanted to get smashed.

Perhaps the curse was karma, kindly reminding him why she's called a bitch. Or perhaps the curse was Loki's way of saying he wasn't as drunk as everyone had thought last night and wanted revenge for the whole ruined invasion thing. Either way, Steve completely deserved it.

In a moment of weakness (read: last night, approximately half a year after the Unfortunate Events, as the drunken escapades involving the lion-napping and Walmart riot starting stated beforehand were called) Steve had agreed to be the designated driver/babysitter for Thor and Natasha so they could go drinking in public. It was only the three of them, as Tony was holed up in his shop refusing visitors and Clint was off on a solo mission in Prague, set to return in the morning. Bruce had wisely foreseen the ticking time bomb that this situation was and stayed home. But Steve had thought, albeit naively, that his super soldier serum would provide enough muscle and quick reflexes to keep the other two in line for one night.

For the first few hours, it was. But then around ten Loki had showed up at the bar, disguised but recognizable to anyone that'd punched him in the face more than four times (read: Steve, Thor, and Natasha) and had joined them for a nonthreatening drink. At around twelve all three were suitably tipsy, laughing and sharing funny stories without a single fight, and Steve was quite happy laughing along with them.

Then the bad ideas started.

Somewhere into his twelfth drink Thor wanted to play the Midgardian game Truth or Dare, and Loki, on his tenth drink, completely agreed. In a surprising act of magic considering the man's level of drunkenness, Loki had poofed them all to a magic inter-dimensional room to play the game and Steve quickly lost control of the situation. Natasha, on her fourteenth drink but still perfectly conscious because stereotypes can be true dammit, had forced Steve to join in the game, and during the final rounds before all three collapsed Steve had picked dare.

Now he had this stupid curse.

In an attempt to avoid the other Avengers the morning after so they didn't know of his curse, (he'd managed to convince Loki to poof them back to the Avengers Tower as the final dare and somehow they'd all made it onto the roof at 4:30 in the morning with their limbs intact. Steve was suitably impressed.) Steve had only slept a measly four hours, dragging himself out of bed at what he perceived was an early enough time to eat quickly alone and go work out. He didn't need to sleep as much as others due to his serum and so he could get up after a night out on the town at a decent time, _and_ survive the entire day without requiring a nap later, completely hangover free (read: he didn't even bother actually drinking anymore since it was pointless). Natasha and Thor, no matter how well they both held their liquor the night before, couldn't boast that. Loki too probably, but after leaving him behind on the roof as he'd dragged the other two like rolling book bags to the elevator, Steve wasn't quite sure where the god of mischief had gone.

Perhaps Loki was hiding disguised a fly somewhere in the kitchen, watching Steve as he made his morning eggs in his pajamas and waiting for Steve to say something so he could laugh his little fly head off at what came out of Steve's mouth.

Well Steve refused.

_He_ hadn't gotten overwhelmingly drunk like some people. _He_ remembered everything that had happened last night in perfect disturbing train-wreck-esque clarity.

He knew what would happen the second he chose to speak to his friends and he wouldn't do it. The dare hadn't required that he speak, only that if he did the curse would control what he said against his will, so all he made to do was be mute for a day and he could be fine. He wasn't Tony – he could survive staying quiet for twenty-four hours. All he had to do was avoid his teammates and there'd be no pressure to-

"Morning, Capsicle." Tony chirped, strolling leisurely into the kitchen. "How was your night trashing the entire state of New York? You did keep Thor on that backpack leash I got him for Christmas, right? " The inventor was holding what Steve assumed was the man's third cup of coffee that morning in a Duke blue mug. Tony normally wouldn't even marginally open his eyes without at least one full cup and wouldn't speak until halfway through number two.

Steve opened his mouth to say hello his closest friend and object of his affections when his mind suddenly went into DEFCON 2, alarms blaring to "for the love of all that is holy, _shut up_!" Steve's jaw instantly snapped shut with an audible _snap_.

So much for his 'perfect' control.

Tony stopped in his journey to the fridge to openly stare at him. Steve flushed but turned stiffly back to his eggs, determined to pretend nothing was wrong.

This was why he had tried to get to the kitchen when no one else was there. Steve was infamously polite and he knew it. He always greeted each individual person when they entered a room, never faulted to get something for someone if they asked nicely and he wasn't already busy, and always treated others with the utmost respect until they proved themselves undeserving. He'd been raised with those manners; to ignore a friendly greeting from someone who let him live in their house, for _free_, went against all of his morals and his personality, and Tony knew it.

"Um, Steve," Tony began slowly, as if speaking any faster would accelerate the silence into further awkwardness, "you wouldn't happen to be possessed would you?"

Steve sputtered incoherently – his egg flipping hand jerked in surprise sending whites leaping to freedom on the counter top – and turned to stare at him. _What?_

"Well, by possessed I mean like possessed by an alien parasite or something, not a ghost," Tony corrected quickly and Steve could hear the start a famous nervous Tony babbling session beginning already. So much for that careful voice from before.

"Because I just said good morning like a good little Avenger and you just completely blew me off like I wasn't even there and the Steve Rogers I know never ignores people. He has these perfect rural small town farm boy manners and really, how the hell did he even get those in _Brooklyn_ of all places, _seriously_, but whatever, you never ignore what I say so what's with the sudden cold shoulder? Unless you're an alien possessed minion which, honestly, is like a total possibility at this point, but-"

Steve, who had gotten lost somewhere around the third word, threw up his hands in the universal signal for 'whoa, Nelly' as if to physically shut the inventor up. Tony obediently closed his mouth and waited.

Here Steve faltered. How exactly does one explain that they can't talk for the entire day in such a way that the person doesn't ask questions but still doesn't know the reason?

God this was awkward.

"Steve?" Tony pressed, and shit now he actually sounded worried. It was a stupid of him to let Tony come to his own conclusions (read: they were always really ridiculous) but there was no way he could respond without horribly embarrassing himself. Steve tried nervously waving his hands in a cutting off motion while opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, torn between fleeing the kitchen and staying silent. He ended up looking like a floundering fish – fly Loki was probably in tears by now.

Tony's eyebrows furrowed at his pained expression. He walked right up to Steve's bubble and peered in close, examining his face. Steve flushed at the closeness but stayed still.

Brown eyes bore into his own with startling intensity, searching for something. His own light blue tried to communicate that everything was fine, but the brown didn't look away and suddenly it was incredibly hard to blink. Or think.

"There's something wrong with your voice." Tony concluded suddenly, finally leaning back from Steve's personal space. "'Cause you haven't spoken a single word to me."

Steve sighed in relief and nodded. It wasn't like he'd been trying to communicate that for the last five minutes or anything.

"Well then," Tony flashed a devious grin. "I'll just have to get you to speak so I can know what it is!"

_WHAT?!_

Steve instantly began to panic, desperately trying to back away from the inventor as he crept towards him, hands raised and an evil smirk on his face. Tony wiggled his fingers tauntingly, and horrible realization hit. Steve's back hit the edge of the stove _way_ too soon – barely two steps, dammit – and then Tony closing in.

"I suggest you crack early on because this will only hurt a lot," Tony warned with faux sympathy, and then he was tickling Steve's sides with childish delight.

Steve tried not to make a noise, honestly, but god dammit it _tickled_, and so he burst out into laughter as Tony attacked his sides, fighting to get away between gasping giggles. He ended up tackling Tony to ground to try to restrain his accursed hands but the smaller man was quick, slipping from his grasp and rolling them around the tiled floor until Steve ended up on his back, howling in laughter as Tony relentlessly assaulted his sides from his position sitting on Steve's stomach.

"Please, god, _please_ stop, Tony _oh god_," Steve choked between uncontrollable bouts of laughter, trying to swat Tony's sneaky little fingers away from his hypersensitive skin. "_Tony,_ stop!"

Tony grinned victoriously above him but relented. "See Capsicle, you can totally talk. You're such a liar."

Steve's breath caught, realizing he _had_ just spoken. His mind quickly went over what he'd said and Steve gave an internal sigh of relief when he realized the curse hadn't been quick enough to alter his unfiltered begging. He was still safe – kinda. Now he would have to get around a Tony who thought he was being stubborn about talking for some imaginary reason.

A piercing wailing suddenly went off, startling both the superheroes. Steve instantly grabbed his ears with a yelp – super hearing royally _sucked_ sometimes – and Tony did the same, burying his face into Steve's chest to try to help block out the noise with a string of angry curses.

Steve didn't even notice. He was too busy turning his head side to side to look for the reason behind the alarm. Blue eyes widened when they caught sight of the thick piling smoke coming from the eggs on the skillet. _Oh shit, I left them cooking!_ Steve realized. Then he recognized exactly which alarm was going off – the fire alarm.

_Fuck-_

The sprinklers turned on with a click an instant later, immediately soaking the pair. Tony looked up in surprise at the sprinklers as the drops pelted his face, then to the still smoking eggs to his left, then back down to Steve with wide brown eyes.

And he burst out laughing.

Tony was the one convulsing in laughter now, clutching his sides to try to hold himself together as the water drenched them. Steve could only stare at him, entranced. Tony's grey wife beater clung to his chest like a second skin as the water made it nearly see-through and his ruffled brown hair was quickly plastered to his forehead. Tears of laughter clung to his eyelashes as a grin split his handsome face.

"Oh come on," Tony snickered, lifting a hand over his eyes to keep the water out, "This is _so_ something we would do." Then he noticed Steve's spellbound stare. His lips turned downward in a confused frown and cocked his head slightly. "Whatcha looking at Cap?"

Steve found himself speaking before he could stop himself – the curse was apparently done with being ignored.

"I didn't mean to ogle you, but I'd sure like to Google you."

Tony reared back and blinked violently. "I'm sorry, but _what_?"

Steve flushed, cheeks heating in a way that the sprinkler's water couldn't cool down. Only now did Steve realize just what position they were in; Tony was seemingly oblivious. He desperately wanted to explain his situation now that he'd let the cat out of the bag, but with the curse changing every word he ended up spouting out a disaster.

"You must be a computer keyboard because you're my type." Steve responded instead; his face went bright red as he stumbled over the magically-forced words.

Tony was gaping speechless at him now, his cheeks dusting pink. Steve would have been proud of making playboy extraordinaire Tony Stark blush if it were any other circumstance but considering he was laying on the floor with the guy he was in love with sitting on his stomach, both of them soaking wet and Steve cursed to say only technology-related pick-up lines for the next twenty-four hours, he was really just beyond embarrassed.

Of course, as is the nature of Murphy's Law, that was the moment the rest of the Avengers – plus Coulson – barged into the still-raining kitchen, all of them soaking wet and not a single one looking happy about it. Until they saw the compromising position their teammates were in, that is.

"_Oh_ _my_ _god_ they're having sex on the _kitchen floor_! I _eat_ off that, you bastards!" Clint shrieked, cringing away to hide his eyes from the supposed sex-having.

Bruce groaned, rubbing his face. "There are so many things wrong with that sentence."

Coulson managed to keep a straight face as he stared at the two pajama-clad superheroes, despite that they were practically on top of each other on the floor, both were red in the face, and the charred eggs on the stove top behind them was a literal smoking gun.

As delicately as a full grown man in a suit being rained on by the ceiling could be, Coulson turned to Natasha and Thor – both of whom were in the back of the pack and looked pretty hung-over – and asked, "Was this the 'problematic curse' you two were talking about?"

Thor looked too disheveled to answer what two plus two was, let alone recount what went on during their little adventure, but Natasha, in her eternal poise despite her hair being bright turquoise and one of her artful eyebrows completely shaved off (read: Steve wasn't the only one with some temporary curses put on them), said, "The curse wasn't meant to make fire alarms go off at fuck o'clock in the morning or have billionaires jump him in the middle of communal places, if that's what you're asking."

"Curse?" Tony parroted, finally finding his voice. He looked at Steve questioningly, who nodded.

Tony frowned, clearly putting the pieces together. "That's why you didn't want to talk to me?" he questioned "Because you would…er, say pick-up lines to me?"

"It works anytime he speaks actually," Natasha inputted, clearly noticing the way Steve's face was somehow managing to get redder than it already was. "Thor dared him to only say geeky computer pick-up lines for the rest of today during our game of Truth or Dare and Loki turned it into a curse so that Steve couldn't cheat. It will wear off around four in the morning tomorrow."

"I what did?" Thor mumbled blankly, nowhere near in touch with the situation – he seemed entirely devoted to blocking any and all light from entering his retinas with his cape.

Coulson sighed, muttering something about defiling national icons, while Clint snickered and Bruce smacked him upside the head. Natasha seemed a bit dazed, half-in half-out of touch with the world, and Jarvis had yet to turn of the fire sprinklers despite the eggs being well doused.

Steve didn't notice any of these things. All he could see was the flash of disappointment in Tony's eyes as Natasha's statement. As if knowing that Steve's come-ons were forced and insincere hurt.

But the thing was that they were entirely sincere. Natasha may have been conscious enough to remember the basics of the dare and the curse that followed, but she'd forgotten that the dare was more specific then to only say technology pick-up lines for the twenty-four hours straight. The truth was much worse.

At that point of drunkenness Thor had been going on about how Steve needed to _'consummate his relationship with the son of Stark'_ and how it was _'unbecoming of such a noble warrior to deny his beloved their sexual completion'_ and other incredibly awkward things for someone who wasn't off their ass drunk to hear. Loki had been in total agreement with his brother for once and Natasha had sat by in their little inter-dimensional room and said nothing, which was as good as saying something when it came to her. Steve had at first insisted that he did _not_ have a thing for Tony – which was as much of a bold faced lie as they came – and then that they get back to the game.

Thor had obediently challenged Steve to Truth or Dare, but Steve had been able to tell by the thunder god's smirk that the topic of Tony had not been dropped. Steve, hoping to avoid admitting anything and desperately clinging to his little illusion that nobody knew, had chosen dare as opposed to truth. Thor could not been deterred though and had dared Steve to only say pick-up lines in the presence of Tony for the next day. Natasha had added in her two cents, claiming that Tony had once admitted to her that he thought cheesy technology pick-up lines were cute, and so Thor adjusted the dare accordingly.

Loki had turned it into a curse to prevent Steve from backing out and the trio had had a good laugh at Steve's expense. He'd tried to tell them off for it only to discover he couldn't make a sound. He'd gone completely mute. The spell, glitching due to the caster's high alcohol levels, hadn't had an alternative for when Steve was in a room with people besides Tony; thus, the spell left him mute when he wasn't talking to the billionaire directly. It was the only thing keeping him from yelling at any of them before Loki had returned them to the Tower.

Frankly, the curse was ridiculous and getting on his nerves. With Natasha and Thor unable to remember enough of the night before so they could accurately relay the entirety of the dare, Tony thought he was forced to hit on the inventor without truly caring for him.

But Steve did care. A hell of a lot too.

And because he cared Steve couldn't stand to see the hurt that Tony was trying to hide. The inventor had obviously hoped for Steve to have been in control of his words despite his earlier comments of Steve being possessed by aliens. But if he couldn't talk then how could Steve tell him that he meant the affection behind the words even if they _were_ forced? That the curse was making him admit feelings he already had.

Tony was looking away from him now, eyes trained on the tiled floor, though he didn't move from his spot on Steve's stomach. The sprinklers were still going on and the others, now past Steve's curse, were debating how to turn them off. Steve watched the water drip down the strands of darkened hair that had fallen into Tony's eyes, the water droplets falling from the tips onto Steve's t-shirt. His gaze watched them go, mournful like tears, past his downturned brown eyes and pink cheeks and chapped lips…

Steve blinked, then nearly laughed at his own blindness. The answer was so obvious – why hadn't he thought of it before? The most direct way to show true affection for someone else without using words…

…was to kiss them.

With a single-minded determination to rid the gloom from Tony's eyes, Steve pushed himself up on one elbow, grasped Tony's chin with his free hand, turned the inventor's surprised face towards his own serious one, and pressed their lips together.

It was so easy to let his nervousness and fear of rejection go when he was focusing on reassuring Tony that he _did_ care with every press of his lips, to communicate with the upward twist of his smile that the curse was the result of a silly dare to get him to openly admit what everyone else knew all along. His friends just wanted him to get his feelings out, for him to quit dancing around the subject.

Well, one didn't get much more 'out in the open' then point blank kissing the object of their affection in a crowded room.

To his amazement Tony began to kiss him back, nimble hands grabbing the front of his soaked shirt and pulling him closer. Time suspended for a moment of perfection, of just the two of them together, until Coulson cleared his throat loudly and Clint began screaming about how they were defiling his perfectly good eating floor and Thor bemoaned the existence of sunlight.

Steve didn't care, because when he pulled back from Tony and looked into his happily shocked eyes, Steve knew that Tony had understood him loud and clear.

"Is your name Google?" Steve began with a grin, willingly embracing the curse for the first time that day, "Because you're everything I've been searching for."

Tony tilted his head back and laughed in response.

Hidden and unnoticed underneath one of the legs of the table, a housefly chuckled quietly as Clint to scream once again about defiling_ 'perfectly good eating space'_. Thank god his spell had worked – there was only so much a god of mischief could take during _every_ _single_ _damn fight_ until the whole 'villainy' didn't seem worth it if he had to listen to Iron Man and Captain America's mid-battle flirting every time he wanted to take over the world. _Jesus_.

**AN: This particular letter ended up expanding way past what my original plan was, so only one for this chapter. Suggestions are still welcome, as are reviews.**


	3. E, F

**A/N: OK, do I really have to put slash or yaoi warnings on this thing? If this type of pairing or story isn't your cup of tea then please exit off and move on with your life without a comment. I'm willing to take criticism for my grammar or uninventive use of the word/letter combinations I've been doing, but not for the pairing. I've stated it about as clear as I possibly can. Now, apologies for taking so long to update, I had some issues with the letter F and research for the letter E to get the mythology right. Enjoy!**

E – Envy

Pride is enjoying himself at some billionaire playboy's extravagant birthday party in a Malibu mansion when he spots a guy enter the room. He's tall and built like a Greek sculpture, with short coy blond hair and blue eyes that glowed in the flashing strobe lights.

He is also instantly the envy of the entire room.

Pride had been having a great time at this rich human's party up to this point, grinding with some twenty-something girl on the dance floor to heavy-handed club music, but when his brown eyes meet the glowing blue of the newcomer from across the room he knows this party has just gotten infinitely better. Even the Four Horsemen crashing through the glass wall and killing every human present couldn't bring Pride's suddenly racing heartbeat down. It'd probably only excite him further.

The blond man just stands there, surveying the room as if he owned everything in it, people included. This pisses Pride off because they've already made eye contact, he knows Pride is there, what the hell does he think he's doing looking at other people when Pride is right here looking better than any of them could dream of?

Pride can only take this blatant dismissal for a second longer before he jerks his heel in a sharp turn and steps off the dance floor. He doesn't spare a thought for the girl as he slips through the crowded bodies that consumed the room towards his goal. She doesn't matter anyway – one day she will age beyond any semblance of her former attractiveness and while she withers away into an ugly corpse Pride will still be standing strong and beautiful, unchanging despite the passing of decades. It's been like that since the day Pride awoke in a desert surrounded by six others like him and a thousand more that were nothing in comparison.

He is the personification of the deadly sin of Pride and he always wins because he was, quite simply, created better. That means his beloved should be looking at _him_, drinking in Pride's expensively clad body and neatly trimmed goatee with those coveting eyes in a way that fed his ego like nothing else. Pride's, well, _pride_ won't allow for anything less.

The feeling drives his across the room with a purpose. Passing the unsuspecting humans around him is easy enough. Pride finds the blond man leaning against the wall, still vacantly searching the crowd as if to find someone important but not necessary. Pride wastes no time getting right up in the taller man's face. He refuses to be ignored for lesser beings.

"Oh, hello," the blond man says. He sounds pleasantly surprised, as if he hadn't expected Pride to be here, and the act just pisses Pride off even further. He faintly wonders if Wrath is anywhere around here, influencing him, but that's highly unlikely; as a rule their powers of influence don't work on other sins and Wrath doesn't like strangers enough to crash a human's party anyway.

Pride very nearly growls at the handsome blond, bared teeth and all, and he'd likely get away with it in the dark room whose only source of light is the multicolored flashes above their heads. But Pride holds himself back. There are too many witnesses within touching distance that might see and notice how inhuman Pride's animalistic expression could be. Instead hooks his thumbs into the front pockets of the other man's jeans.

"I'm Tony Stark," Pride purrs, leaning forward into the blond's muscled chest.

The man chuckles but doesn't move away. Despite the pounding music they can hear each other clearly.

"What happened to a good old-fashioned handshake?" He asked with a teasing smile on his lips. He doesn't surrender his name however, and even though they both know it already there is still common decency here people, which naturally meant that the blond should give everything he had to offer to Pride. That included his human name.

Pride is already tired with flirting, however brief – he wants his beloved's attention _right now_. Using his grip of the taller man's jeans as leverage, Pride pushes himself onto his toes and rips a demanding kiss onto the man's mocking mouth. The other responds immediately, shameless in the mix of darkness and neon, and Pride moans into his mouth as their tongues collide. When they pull apart the blond is breathing heavily and Pride enthusiastically meets the coveting blue gaze that he'd first stared into millenniums ago.

"Steve Rogers," The blond pants. Pride – Tony – smirks in victory, both from the offering of his partner's name and from the jealous stares boring holes into his back. Now this is what Tony likes, having everybody acknowledging that he is better than them from their baleful looks aimed his way as Steve – Envy – has eyes only for him.

Those blue eyes have always been the center of Tony's universe.

When the seven of them were first created – not born but created, because though things had existed before them it was the newly thriving humans and their warped characters that led to a need for their existence – Pride, long before he had adopted the name Tony Stark, had looked over at his companions in vice and met their equally confused stares. But when he'd met the last pair of eyes, standing in-between the redheaded Lust and the bespeckled Wrath, the energy within them had been so surreal that Pride had instantly been captivated.

It was as if gravity was centered on those two glowing blue eyes. They looked at Pride like he were something worth desiring, worth owning, and as the years turned into decades turned into centuries, that look never changed.

In fact, it had only gotten better when Envy's strong arms had held him similar to how a dragon clutches a precious horde of treasure. Envy coveted things by nature, especially things others owned, so around the time the Roman Republic reached its second century of existence Envy had grown nearly insane with jealousy after watching Pride take home humans for centuries and not Envy himself. Pride had laughed as Envy had dragged them to an empty temple that first night together, his centuries of torturing and teasing his fellow deadly sin finally bearing fruit. Envy wasn't the only one who had coveted but he sure as hell was the most obsessive and determined when it came to actually taking what he wanted from others.

From that first night in Aphrodite's temple to today in a rich man's house party, Envy had never looked at Pride as if he were anything but the crown jewel of his collection and the usually flighty Pride had never lost interest in handsome Envy. Envy was the only being in the universe that was equal to him – not better, because no one was better than Pride, but equal. It was an honor that Pride had graciously given the blond sin, not that he had any appreciation for the title besides an amused eye roll.

As Envy's eyes travels over Pride's shoulder, taking in the envious stares sent Pride's way, the blond smiles one of those amused smiles at Pride. "It seems quite a few people aren't very happy with you right now Tony." He muses.

Pride flashes a cocky smile, more than content with that. "Well now, whose fault do you think it is, hmm Steve?" He teases. Envy laughs at that, the noise nearly drowned out by the thundering bass of the new track the DJ started playing.

Envy gives a 'guilty as charged' look, but he isn't ashamed. His eyes are too mischievous for that. "It always fun to see you puff up like a peacock when I make the entire room drown in their jealousy of you." He says. "I know how you enjoy it, darling."

And this is why Pride loves this man with all of his sinful heart. Not even Lucifer himself would do that type of thing for him.

"Hey babe," Pride hums, a grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat curling his lips as he leans his body flush against his lover's perfectly sculpted form once more. "What do you say we find bedroom somewhere in this big house and I'll give you something you'll enjoy? Or perhaps a closet if we can't find any unoccupied rooms. Or we could skip all the pesky searching and have sex right here, _I_ certainly don't mind everyone watching-"

Envy starts dragging him out of the room at that, cutting Pride off with a large hand wrapped around his wrist that is unrelenting in its mission to tug Pride out of the room before Envy does exactly what Pride just suggested. Pride can't help but snicker as he's pulled out of the dark room into another, knowing full well he has both incredibly aroused and incredibly annoyed his lover. Pride may enjoy showing off that he's getting some without a care because of his boundless ego, but Envy can get as jealous as he can make others and has always refused to share one inch of Pride's skin with anyone else. The fact that he kidnapped all of Pride's former partners and fed them to the Roman Colosseum's stock of encaged lions the night after they got together was a testament to that.

Some of the people in the next room give Pride worried looks when they see the harsh grip the larger man had on him and the single minded determination painted across his face that together made his beloved look quite ferocious, like a soldier going to war. Pride just gives them a wink and a jaunty wave with his free hand in return – he knows he'll be perfectly fine, if not better, wherever they are going.

After all, he'd seen those glowing blue eyes turn black with lust at his words. It sent a thrill through Pride. Perhaps Natasha is hiding somewhere around here too.

F – Freedom

Halfway through their third year as an official superhero team, the Avengers adopted a pet.

In truth Tony knew that only Steve had adopted a pet, but if anyone on the team tried to shove full responsibility of the bird solely onto their leader Steve would give them his puppy dog eyes and ask _why don't you like Freedom?_ until that person ended up cleaning the bird's cage for the next week to 'prove that they loved Freedom too'.

This happened to be exactly what Tony was doing right now.

It wasn't his fault though. He should have known better than to insult the bald eagle under his breath when Steve was in the room; his boyfriend's superhearing caught him every time. But really, it was a freaking bald eagle, how much more of a stereotypical and yet ridiculous pet could Steve had gotten? Tony didn't care if the eagle had led the supersoldier back to civilization after he'd escaped a kidnapping in the middle of the Rocky Mountains – OK, he actually did care a whole lot, because Steve was important to Tony in ways that nobody else could ever compare to – did Steve seriously have to keep it?

The blasted bird was giving him the stink eye this moment, all high and mighty from his perch on the headboard of Tony and Steve's bed as Tony scrubbed the bottom of the absolutely massive cage with a sponge, yellow rubbed gloves, and a whole lot of all-purpose cleaner. How did one bird of prey make such a massive mess?

Tony met the bird's glare with one of his own (not that Steve would ever believe that the bird was glaring at him. "He's just a bird Tony," Steve would say and scratch the demon bird on the top of its head until it closed it's eyes in bliss and made a strange cooing sound. Then Steve would look back at Tony to where he couldn't see the cocky look the bird would send Tony a second later. Just a bird his ass.)

"You don't fool me, bird," Tony reminded the winged monster as he scrubbed the metal bottom. "Steve may only see a slightly intelligent patriotic pet but I know the truth. You're a baldheaded, cockblocking, dastardly intelligent monster hiding behind an innocent façade of feathers and American-ness."

Freedom gave a scoffing squawk, clearly enjoying its higher position as Tony scrubbed on his hands and knees. Tony narrowed his eyes. "I'm serious. It's _your_ fault that I haven't gotten any from Steve in months and I'm just about sick of it. You're going to pay, bird. Hell hath no fury like a man who's been kept from sex. Don't think I can't find someone to turn you into a nice stuffed museum piece."

Flapping his wings so hard they shook the bed frame, Freedom let out a series loud shrieking squawks. Tony glared again. The bald eagle was clearly mocking him for being celibate since he'd shown up; that was the exact noise that Freedom would make any time Tony and Steve got hot and heavy in their bedroom when the bird was in his cage, and considering that the other Avengers had demanded Steve only let the bird out when he was personally with him, that meant Every. Single. Time. They could never get anywhere with that annoying racket going on within hearing distance and since Steve insisted on keep Freedom in their room Tony couldn't even kick the bald eagle out.

Tony gritted his teeth together as Freedom continued shrieking. "Just count to ten Stark. One, two, three…that's right, calm down. It's just a stupid evil eagle. Four, five, _six_, _SEVEN_…oh fuck it, you're going _down_ baldy!"

When Steve opened the door to the bedroom he and Tony shared a few moments later, alerted by Jarvis that Freedom had been squawking quite loudly, it was to the sight of his boyfriend and his pet bald eagle wrestling on the bed, feathers flying as Tony tried to strangle Freedom as Freedom tried to claw at Tony's eyes out with his talons.

"What in the _world_ is going on in here?" Steve demanded.

Both man and bird froze. Slowly, they looked over in unison to see Steve standing there, arms crossed and an expression of displeasure on his face.

"Tony," He sighed in annoyance. Tony sputtered.

"W-w-what?! This isn't just me Steve, that bird of yours is pure evil, pure cockblocking evil, you've got to believe me-"

"That's no excuse to try and _murder_ my pet, Tony-"

"_Yes it_ _is!_ I haven't gotten any yum-yum gimme-some from you since that feathered fiend flew into our lives-"

"Yum-yum gimme-some? What are you, ten-"

"Now's not the time to discuss my wording Steve, we have a real live demon in our presence-"

"Freedom is a simple animal, not Loki is disguise. Stop being so overdramatic-"

"The marks on my wonderfully handsome face say otherwise Cap! Don't think I won't sue that bag of feathers for property damage to my person-"

"Oh my god Tony, why didn't you say you were bleeding?"

Tony very nearly had a conniption right then and there – _why_ _hadn't the bird gotten yelled at yet goddammit!_ – but Steve ignored his loud protests in order to pull Tony away from Freedom and cradle his face. Tony finally went silent as they sat on the bed. The wounds weren't really that bad; Freedom hadn't managed more than some thin slices on his chin and chest, ripping his shirt.

Steve didn't seem to care about that though as he lightly ran a finger along one of cuts. He sighed when Tony winced at the touch and wiped the blood away. "Freedom could've really ripped your face apart Tony," Steve chastised gently, eye softening at the sight of his boyfriend's injuries. "Why did you attack him like that?"

Tony huffed and crossed his arms as he looked away pointedly, refusing to give up on his anger so soon. "Oh, so the evil demon bird's your first priority, not your loving boyfriend of over a year. I get it. Please, don't worry about me, go coddle Freedom. You're both American icons so I'm sure you'll be very happy together."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You're being ridiculous."

"No I'm not," Tony pouted. "I'm being jealous."

"For the love of god," Steve exclaimed, exasperated. "Tony, what in the hell made you think you had any reason to be jealous of a bald eagle?"

"A bald eagle signed, sealed, and delivered straight from Hades!" Tony insisted. Steve sighed again but didn't bother disputing; it didn't seem to be getting them anywhere.

"Tony, tell what's really wrong." he said simply. Tony tried to hold onto some anger, or at least a bit of irritation, but Steve was looking at him like he'd enjoy nothing more than to listen to every little worry on Tony's mind and Tony couldn't stay strong against that.

"You ignore having sex with me for the stupid bird," Tony muttered. Now that he was finally admitting his reason for hating Freedom to Steve out loud it sounded kind of childish, but he wasn't going to back down. This was a _problem_ damn it all.

Steve blinked, stared at Tony, blinked again, and finally let out a bark of a laugh. Tony promptly scowled and hit him over the head for it.

"This isn't funny!" he yelled.

"No, it isn't," Steve chuckled, which totally took away any seriousness from that statement. Tony hit him again just because he could. "No really, I agree, this isn't funny," Steve pressed, now merely smiling apologetically, "It's just the way you said it kinda was."

Tony grumbled. "What happened to being supportive 'no matter the problem'?"

Steve sighed with a fond smile and leaned forward to wrap his arms around him, nuzzling his face into Tony's messed up hair. Tony gave in and rested his head on the taller's shoulder, melting against the warm body.

"Cheater," Tony accused.

"No, I'm being supportive," Steve countered, hugging him tighter. "If it'll make you happy then we'll find an empty room and turn it into a bald eagle's paradise. Or maybe we'll give him to Sam as a gift – he loves birds. If none of those things work out then I'll have Jarvis look up sanctuaries for large birds of prey. The constant interruptions were annoying me too darling, but I was trying to not lose my head over them until I worked out another option. It wasn't like I could let Freedom loose in New York City when he'd just follow us home. That's how I ended up him home to the tower in the first place."

Well then, it was hard not to feel a bit foolish for trying to mug Freedom after hearing that little speech. Speaking of super intelligent diabolical birds, Tony couldn't help but notice that the bald eagle had been oddly quiet since Steve had come in. Curious, Tony pulled away from Steve and looked over his shoulder to where he'd been wrestling – and in his opinion, winning against – Freedom.

The bald eagle was perched once more on the headboard, fast asleep.

This promptly pissed Tony off all over again.

"What the _hell_ is that bratty little beak for brains doing asleep? You haven't read him the riot act yet so he has no right to be sleeping! You _are_ going chew out Freedom too, aren't you Steve? Steve? Why are you getting up? You still need to chew out Freedom! Steve!"

**A/N: I had a lot of fun writing these two letters. I'd wanted to do a Seven Deadly Sins AU previously and spent way too much time obsessing over which two sins I'd pick for these guys. It was easy to make Tony into Pride without warping his character much past what he was like in the very beginning of **_**Iron Man**_** but picking one for Steve was much harder. I eventually made Steve into Envy because of the beginning of **_**Captain America: The First Avenger **_**mixed with my research on what exactly makes envy a deadly sin in Christian mythology – the biggest factor is that the person needs to jealous to point of coveting what another has for themselves and will do anything to get it, often hurting others somewhere along the way. While Steve didn't necessary hurt anybody but himself in his attempts to become a soldier, he was clearly jealous of Bucky for getting to serve when he couldn't and went so far as to let others experiment on him to get what he wanted. I personally see that more as ambition, determination, and a natural sense of justice on his part, but I think the argument could be made that some envy played a role and I considered it as enough to twist him into the sin of Envy. Honestly, none of the others fit him anyway. I hope I didn't mess up his core personality too much.**

**Well now that my super long explanation on my thinking for the letter E is over, please review and leave me suggestions for any and all future letters. I appreciate the challenge. Thank you for reading!**


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